Of madness came, like day to one benighted In lonesome woods; my heart is now too well requited!" XXIII. And then she wept aloud, and in her arms Clasped that bright Shape, less marvellously fair Than her own human hues and living charms; Which, as she leaned in passion's silence there, Breathed warmth on the cold bosom of the air, Which seemed to blush and tremble with delight; The glossy darkness of her streaming hair Fell o'er that snowy child, and wrapped from sight The fond and long embrace which did their hearts unite. XXIV. Then the bright child, the plumèd Seraph, came, And fixed its blue and beaming eyes on mine, And said: "I was disturbed by tremulous shame When first we met, yet knew that I was thine, From the same hour in which thy lips divine Kindled a clinging dream within my brain, Which ever waked when I might sleep, to twine Thine image with her memory dear- again We meet; exempted now from mortal fear or pain. XXV. "When the consuming flames had wrapped ye round, The hope which I had cherished went away; I fell in agony on the senseless ground, The Spectre of the Plague before me flew, And breathed upon my lips, and seemed to say, They wait for thee, beloved!' - then I knew The death-mark on my breast, and became calm anew. XXVI. "It was the calm of love-for I was dying. I saw the black and half-extinguished pyre In its own gray and shrunken ashes lying; The pitchy smoke of the departed fire Still hung in many a hollow dome and spire Above the towers, like night; beneath whose shade, Awed by the ending of their own desire, |